Of Love and Suffering
by africana
Summary: Through it all, her gaze had been focused on it, mocking her as she mourned. The deep red, size four, satin thong edged with black lace and adorned with a bow that Sakura had found in Sasuke's ANBU uniform, crumpled and shoved into his pants pocket.
1. Chapter 1

It's been a while so I thought I'd put out something new. Please excuse the generic title. Picking titles really isn't one of my strongpoints, as you can see. =S I plan on continuing this one so tell me what you think so far. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Flames aren't. =)

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and sadly, I never will.

* * *

Sitting across from Sasuke's usual spot at the head of the dining table, Sakura stared dejectedly at the source of her despair, her hands mechanically twisting the fabric of her apron.

It had been about an hour since she had found _it _but time had seemed to drag on impossibly slow, each tick of the antique clock in the hall resounding with a sluggish echo as she felt the walls close in around her. For an hour, she had sat helplessly as her life crumbled into nothing, her dreams and plans unraveled, and her heart was slowly shredded. The sobbing had subsided some since 'the discovery' but the tears still streamed uncontrollably down her face in warm rivets.

And through it all, through the desperation, sorrow and helplessness, her gaze had been focused on _it_, lying delicately before her, mocking her as she mourned.

The deep red, size four, satin thong edged with black lace and adorned with a bow that Sakura had found in Sasuke's ANBU uniform, crumpled and shoved into his pants pocket.

He was cheating on her. After she had given him everything she had to offer, her freedom, her happiness, her _life_, he had cheated on her. For _her. _That bitch Misaki. Who else would he want? Pretty, somewhat tolerable, and his teammate: he would always have excuses and alibis at the ready. We were training, we were catching a bite, there were complications on our mission.

She had suspected that he was being unfaithful. She had instinctively picked up on all of the signs, all of the evidence that suggested an affair. It was only now that the physical evidence was lying in front of her that she was finally forced to come to terms with the truth. It had been easy to pretend that his clothes didn't smell like perfume when she went to wash them. It had been even easier to accept all of his lies and excuses. And all the while, somewhere buried in the depths of her mind, the broken person she used to be was silently screaming at her, trying to make her see the truth. But Sasuke was her everything; why would she try to uncover anything that would distance them further? The only thing that was driving her was the small glimmer of hope that somewhere in his solidified heart, Sasuke—the man who had returned to the village with apologies on his lips, the man who had relentlessly badgered her until she had finally agreed to go to dinner with him, the man who had whispered sweet lullabies to her in her sleep, the man whom she had fallen in love with—still loved her. Why would she want to destroy her reason for enduring the miserable life she was living?

It was desperation, the dire need to be with him that caused Sakura to lie to herself for so long—they were just in a slump, they would overcome it. Every couple had rough patches. Eventually, she would wake up one day and he would hold her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her. Eventually, the day would come when things would go back to the way they were, in the beginning, during that first year when he smiled and she laughed and he wanted to be with her.

Things began to go awry the moment she crossed the threshold of his house, all of her belongings stuffed and jammed into several boxes at her feet. She had been nervous and wary at what the new proximity would do to them. But when she had expressed her concerns to him, Sasuke had just brushed them off as if the two of them were impervious to problems. As if, they could not possibly grow apart.

But he was wrong. So wrong. And it only hurt more to know that she had foreseen it, the bleakness and misery that was their relationship. _As long as he's happy_. It was her personal dogma, the essential component in all of her decisions. Because that's what it came down to: if he was happy, she was happy. If he wasn't happy, she suffered.

The agonizing desperation began making its appearance once the arguing began, so intense that they triggered Sasuke's dark eyes to pulse red. By the time he began setting up permanent residence in the guest room, and then hotels, she couldn't control the feral need to have him by her side as she cried silently in their achingly cold bed. So she succumbed with as much dignity as she could muster. His wishes above hers, his needs before hers, his feelings above hers. Once he properly established his dominant role, he had let the power consume him to a point where she was no different than a complaisant servant, tending to his every whim.

He didn't want her to go on missions? She'd work in the hospital. He didn't like her revealing so much skin? She'd wear more conservative clothing. He didn't like the way she cooked? She'd take some culinary classes. He wanted her to be pregnant? She'd start taking hormone pills. He didn't want to get married? She'd happily accept his decision.

Sakura hated what she had become and hated herself for allowing it to happen. She should have left when the arguments began, temporarily at least. Perhaps, then they would have realized that they weren't ready to be so seriously committed. But she didn't. Instead, she watched their relationship decline further and further as she desperately clamored for anything that might please Sasuke, might make him happy since she couldn't do that for him anymore.

And then, about five months ago, things began to change. Sakura would come home from the hospital to find the house dark and unoccupied almost every night. She would wait for him, his blaringly empty plate placed across from her at the end of the mahogany dining table.

At first he would come in at ten and start their ritual conversation—a kiss on the forehead, "How was your day?" "Fine. And yours?" "Tiring. Same as always. Are you hungry?"—as if walking in so late was normal. Then gradually, he began arriving later and later causing Sakura to often fall asleep at the table, the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall keeping time in her dreams. When his entrances began bordering two in the morning, Sakura reasoned that Sasuke wouldn't mind if she went to bed rather than wait for him. She tried to smother the part of her that said that he wouldn't care.

For three months she rarely saw Sasuke during the night. Sometimes she would wake up alone and upon feeling the cold spot beside her, wonder if he had ever come home. Out of curiosity and a growing sense of abandonment, one night Sakura forced herself to stay awake for hours until she heard the quiet click of the doorknob. Try as she might to calm her racing heart, she could hear the low thudding in her ears. Why was she panicking? What was there to fear?

She realized what she feared, what was causing her to panic when Sasuke slid soundlessly into their bed and the air he stirred with his movements was redolent of lavender and chamomile: the truth.

Misaki's smiling face flashed in Sakura's mind and the tears fell faster. She _knew _she was the other woman. Why wouldn't she be? It was _Misaki _for god's sake.

With a sprinkling of golden freckles spanning across her cheeks and thick golden hair cascading down her back, Misaki was undeniably beautiful; a fact that lost merit each time she spoke. Her words were nearly always snide and biting, ringing with irritation and annoyance. Not thoroughly devoid of warmth, there were days and moments when Misaki's temper stalled and her voice smoothed and she was likable, that was until the scale that balanced her temperaments teetered back towards irritable.

Every time she saw her, which was daily, Sakura habitually compared herself to Misaki. She was a golden blend of beauty and skill while Sakura was; useless. Sasuke made it a point to tell her so in almost every argument they had. Many a times Sakura stood before the mirror, wishing that she was slimmer and taller and stronger. Wishing that the sound of her voice turned heads, that her smile caused joy, that she was wanted.

She should have said something. Done _something_. How many times had she seen Sasuke training or eating, just _being_ with Misaki? How many times had she come home for her lunch break to find Misaki, cooking at _her _stove, wearing _her _apron, cooking _his_ food?

Sakura clutched her stomach as a bout of nausea washed over her. He had brought _her _into their house, into their bedroom, into their _bed_. The bed that Sakura silently climbed into each night, lonely and cold. The bed where Sakura would wake with a jolt, hoping desperately that there would be someone next to her, not just a wrinkled bedspread.

With a heavy heart, Sakura cried woefully. Four years ago she had been living contently in her own apartment, single and independent. Then _he _had stepped back into her life; returning to Konoha, procuring forgiveness, and stealing her heart again all in one fatal swoop. If she had known at the time when he was whispering sweet words in her ears, caressing her hand lovingly, cradling her body tenderly against his, that she would eventually be reduced to the role of a controlled housewife in an unfaithful relationship, she would have never gotten involved. Ever.

The clock struck twelve with a loud _bong_. Sakura continued to stare at the underwear dejectedly.

_Bong_.

How could he do this to her? How could he betray her like this? After everything she had ever done for him. Getting him out of execution for his betrayal to the village, saving his life countless times, feeding him, cleaning his house, doing his every will.

_Bong_.

In the course of the twelve years since she had begun loving Sasuke, he had caused her to feel nothing but pain, sorrow, regret and inadequacy. And for what? There was nothing she could show for the three years they had been together: not marriage, not love, not children. She had wasted her life for nothing.

_Bong_.

She didn't deserve any of it. Any of the shit he had been giving her for the past two years. Any of the insults, any of the avoidance, any of the loneliness. Every single night, the deafening silence consumed her like a disease, driving her closer to insanity with each tear that slipped from her eyes.

_Bong_.

What had happened to the strong kunoichi who would maim any man who mistreated her? What had happened to her spirit, once too stubborn to be broken? Who was this woman who couldn't stop crying over a man who didn't love her—a man who destroyed her?

_Bong_.

Did he realize how much damage he had caused? Could he see how broken she was, how depressed she was? She hadn't truthfully smiled in over a year. Did he notice that?

_Bong._

Did he care?

_Bong_.

No, He didn't care. Not about her, not about their relationship; all he cared about was screwing that slut.

_Bong_.

That would all end. She'd make it so that he'd _never_ worry about his dick over her again.

_Bong_.

Because he would have bigger problems to worry about than his sex life.

_Bong_.

Like whether he would live to see tomorrow or not.

_Bong._

She had given him the best of herself, sacrificed her happiness for his, just so that he could spit on it. She had loved him unconditionally since she was twelve years old: did he ever show his appreciation? No, instead, he slept with another woman. Who in the hell did he think he was?

With a sudden burst of passion, Sakura shouted angrily as she flipped the table, the polished wood snapping as it impacted with the wall. Resentment and vengeance blazed ferociously in her eyes as she heaved. She was done with it all, the submissiveness, the mistreatment—done with Sasuke. But she wouldn't leave quietly. Oh no. She had been silent for far too long and she'd be damned if her departure was mistaken for surrender; Misaki, or any other bitch for that matter, was not going to try and take her place, she'd make sure of it.

In a few moments, the entire dining room was destroyed. Gaping holes covered each wall. The cabinet in the corner filled with china laid in jagged shambles. The wood that once made up the floor rose from the ground in splintered stalagmites. The chandelier swung one last time on its cord before crashing to the ground and shattering in a cascade of chimes, sparks flinging in haphazard showers around the room. And amidst it all stood Sakura, heaving as she clenched her bloody fingers. It wasn't enough.

As the ceiling began to crumble, Sakura separated the panties from among the wreckage and shoved them unceremoniously in her pocket before scrambling over the rubble of the room and into the kitchen. She didn't feel the concrete scraping against her skin or the jagged wood puncturing her palms. All she could feel was rage. Without thought or pause, she proceeded to destroy the kitchen, the freshly washed dishes shattering into thousands of pieces upon the tiled floor. Every night she had slaved tirelessly in this damn kitchen trying to make something that Sasuke might enjoy, something that wouldn't "disgust" him. A wall crumbled into pieces. Did _Misaki's_ cooking disgust him? The stove gave a grinding screech as its metallic frame was twisted horrendously.

Fueled by her anger and scorn, Sakura continued to destroy the home she had inhabited with Sasuke for two years. Pictures and his prized gifts and antiques were shattered. The walls were demolished with a single punch. Sasuke's training room? The ceiling was caved in. The den? The floor was smashed to smithereens. And the bedroom?

Sakura slowly made her way to the master bedroom, carefully avoiding the heaps of debris surrounding her. She paused in the doorway cautiously. The room she hated the most. Left to sleep alone after arguments, she had always felt the walls swell, the room enlarge as the loneliness and hurt racked her body with pain.

The king bed was beautiful in composition. She remembered how delighted she had been when selecting the design for the wrought iron frame and delicately shaped mahogany headboard. In the beginning, it had been her favorite piece in the house. But as Sakura glared angrily at it, imagining all the things Sasuke probably did to _her_ in their bed, remembering all of the nights she spent crying in their bed, she couldn't help but release the full effect of her fury.

Blindly, she hurried to the back door, yanking it off of its hinges in her haste. In the dark she groped for the handle of the shed door before she destroyed the building with an impatient shout. Within moments, the spare gallon of gasoline was retrieved and with her bleeding hands, Sakura graciously doused every inch of the pristine white sheets. The bed seemed almost luminous against the black of the night, resting underneath the moonlight streaming through the skylight. Sakura's glare hardened. With a quick fire jutsu, the bed was set aflame as the smoke quickly overtook the room. The flicker of the flames glinted in Sakura's eyes, her fury blazing inside of her.

Unfinished, Sakura wrenched open the doors of the armoire. Methodically, she tore each article of clothing before ungraciously depositing it into the fire. Each rip somehow warbled in her ears and sounded like his demeaning, domineering words: useless, stupid, ugly, weak, barren, disappointing, worthless. Sakura gazed intensely at the fire, the orange flames growing until they licked the beams of the ceiling. With her back pressed against the wall, she slid onto the floor, keeping her enraged gaze transfixed on the mesmerizing blaze. A small sense of victory was building in her chest. But it wasn't enough. She craved absolute destruction.

As the inferno began to spread, she retreated into the remnant of the house that still stood. Stepping into the living room, Sakura was stricken with a sudden moment of clarity that almost caused her to reconsider her actions. As the enlarged photo of her and Sasuke, back when they were still in love, still happy, gazed down at her from above the fireplace, she found herself regretting her revenge: this was her home, _their _home. How could she have ruined it like this? How could she betray Sasuke like this? Her hand gently glided over the picture, remembering, wishing. Maybe it could work— look how happy they had been, they could go back to that— maybe she was making a mistake. Her fingers fell from the frame and fell to her side, grazing against her bulged pocket in the process. A stinging, searing pain wrenched at her heart and as suddenly as it had come, the moment was gone, rage returning to fill its place. The final reminder of what they had been was ripped from the wall and promptly burned in the fire.

She angrily fought against the house, her prison, tearing through the building like a whirling tornado, leaving devastation in her wake. Every piece of furniture, every obstruction in her way, any and everything that was in her line of sight ceased to exist. Eventually, there was nothing more to be done. The roaring inferno had swept across the house and taken care of anything she had missed. There was nothing left.

The only thing she had saved was an unlabeled crinkled envelope containing some money and information to the savings account she had long ago abandoned when she had moved in with Sasuke. She remembered sealing the envelope with the idea that it would always be available if there was some kind of emergency or tragedy. The house groaned as it began to topple on itself, the walls crumbling into ash.

Or if she ever had to leave.

She didn't look back as she walked away from the burning house. She didn't pay attention to the frenzied neighbors trying to distance themselves from the danger. It was for the better; in their hurried escape, no one remembered if they had seen Sakura escaping with them or if she had been home at all when the fire erupted. By the time help arrived, nothing could be done to stop the flames and everyone watched helplessly as the Uchiha household burned to the ground, Uchiha Sasuke standing as close to the swelling flames that was permitted.

As the last embers died out and the source of the fire was being searched for, Sasuke was allowed to collect anything that was salvageable from the wreckage. It was as he poked his way around the charred and twisted living room that Sasuke noticed that the brick fireplace and chimney had been able to withstand the heat of the flames and still stood. But it was upon closer inspection that he realized that across the nails that had once held the photograph of him and Sakura was now stretched a deep red, size four, satin thong edged with black lace and adorned with a bow.

* * *

I made the ending in such a way that if everybody hated it, I could leave the story a one-shot but if people liked it, I could still continue. That's where you come in. Hit that reveiw button. You know you want to. =)


	2. Chapter 2

Hey all. Long time no see, huh? I'm really sorry about the wait: school is an energy-sucking vampire and I'm terrible with time management. I know what it's like to wait for an update. It sucks, I know. I'll be better with the next chapter, I promise. =)

Thank you so much for all the reviews, I really appreciate your comments. Remember, constructive criticism is always welcomed. I tweaked chapter one a little while back based on some feedback I got about characterization and grammar. I really want to know what you think so don't be afraid to share your opinion( as long as its constructive. Flames are never welcome).

Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

She wasn't angry. She wasn't upset. Not anymore. She was _numb_.

She hadn't slept—hadn't been able to. From her office, she had spent hours watching the dense cloud of ash and smoke billow across the rooftops, her mind blank, her eyes tight with rage.

Hours later, the last wisps of smoke had dissipated into the air, as did her anger. The adrenaline that had furiously pumped through her veins dwindled; the wave of fury that had washed over her body subsided, leaving a drained, tired feeling in its wake.

Motionless, she watched as the soft pink fingers of the sunrise gently faded from the sky, exposing the pale blue of morning. Stiffly, she shifted to the edge of the couch, her head dropping heavily into her hand. Now what?

She tried to reason through the cottony fog cloaking her mind. Minutes passed as her mind waned in and out of awareness; wisps of thoughts fleetingly flashing behind her blank eyes. It must be close to nine. She was on shift to work. She rubbed slowly at her eyes, hoping to ease the stinging. Her limbs were heavy, her back hunched. It took so much energy to move her leaden body. She shouldn't work—not today. But what else would she do? Sit in her office and wait for her quelled emotions to swell up again? Sit and wait for Sas—

She felt it begin, the slow simmering of her pain as it awakened from its dormancy. It rolled and tumbled incessantly in the pit of her stomach before it began to flood her chest, the heat clenching at her heart. She swallowed the sob building in her throat. She wouldn't think of him. She would go to work, like she normally did, and wouldn't think of any of it. Purposefully, she unfurled from the couch, making her way to the window. The sky was clear, the streets filled with people. It would be a normal day.

She turned toward her desk, rummaging through her drawers for spare clothing. "Confidence is the key Sakura. You can make it through this." She tugged on her skirt. "It's just another day at the hospital." Her fingers shook against the buttons on her blouse. She moved to the standing cabinet, pulling back her hair in the small mirror hanging on the inside door. "It's a process." she mumbled, her teeth holding the hair tie. "It hurts now but next thing you know," she straightened the lapels of her lab coat. "You'll be saying 'Sasuke who?'"

The woman in the mirror seemed unconvinced. Deep bags bordered her eyes, their red rims alarmingly bright against the pale pallor of her skin. She took a deep breath and tried to smooth out the tension in her brow, the straight set of her mouth. Her ghastly reflection remained unchanged. The very picture of confidence.

Her eyes drifted downwards, settling on the photo attached to the corner of the mirror. Her birthday party, during that first year—the golden year. Their faces were smeared with cake, pasty wads of crumbs and icing in each of their hands. She was laughing and he was trying to scowl, the warmth in his eyes betraying him. Her heart wrenched once, emotions stirring in her chest. The image crumpled between her fingers. Shifting back to her reflection, she watched her mouth twist painfully into a grimace, her eyes glazed with misery. Sasuke who?

* * *

They didn't ask questions—not even the nosiest of them. They only watched, bewildered, as she clocked in—nine o'clock, exactly—and headed towards the elevator, her steps stiff and brusque.

She tried to smile—wave and greet her co-workers like she had done every morning for years. But her smile was meek, her hands limp, and she could see the concern reflecting in their eyes. A nurse who knew of the fire quietly offered her condolences as she laid a comforting hand on Sakura's shoulder. She nodded softly, politely answering any questions with effortless lies; it started in the kitchen—one of the burners was left on, quite unfortunate, left just in time, no one was hurt.

"And what of Sasuke?" the nurse continued, her tone soft. Sakura gritted her teeth against the tumultuous thrashing in her chest.

"He wasn't home." She swallowed a dry breath, her lips attempting to curl into a smile. "He's on missions so much, I hardly see him."

The nurse smiled knowingly, lightly relating her own situation to Sakura's. Gradually, Sakura's eyes shifted, unfocused, and her attention faded, her mind falling into emptiness.

Her shoulder was jarred slightly and she collected herself, disoriented. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

The nurse frowned slightly. "You're tired dear. Look at those eyes! We can handle things around here. Go be with your loved one and get some rest.'

The swell in her chest rumbled once. "It's quite alright. Thank you for your concern." She quickly edged away from her touch, her steps rushed.

Within a few hours, Sakura had accepted condolences from what seemed like the entire hospital personnel. She tried to seem mournful over the house and her belongings, tried to pretend that her steps were heavy from lack of sleep, tried to act as if Sasuke's name didn't send searing licks of fire through her insides.

She tried to engross herself in work with the idea that if she was preoccupied, she wouldn't dwell on the pain. But her hands moved too slowly, her steps lacked the usual urgency needed in a hospital, her mind too disconnected. Staying focused became a tedious chore, irritatingly jerking her mind back from whatever stream of consciousness it had been following. One minute she'd be tending to a patient or signing a paper and in the next, her face would blank and she'd be remembering the time Sasuke filled her office with flowers or theorizing about Sasuke's current whereabouts. Sometimes it was seconds before she was able to refocus, sometimes minutes, but the scene she was greeted with was always the same: someone curiously studying her, their eyes lined with concern and confusion.

Standing at the front desk of the emergency room, she was there, reliving some distant memory, when Ino threw open the double doors and nearly flew down the hall, her arms roughly shoving passersby out of her way, her cries echoing loudly against the walls. Sakura gradually slipped back into awareness as Ino broke their one-sided embrace, her panicked words slowing as her eyes scrutinized Sakura's still form. By the time Sakura's ears began to register the sounds vibrating around her, Ino was silent.

Instantly, Naruto's warm grasp enveloped her, his relieved ramblings flooding her ears. Separating her face from his chest, Sakura peeked over his shoulder at Ino whose gaze had quickly evolved from relieved to accusing. Her eyes narrowed. And in that silent exchange it was obvious: Ino knew.

"Thank goodness you're okay Sakura! I've been worried sick! I've been looking everywhere for you—your neighbors hadn't seen you, Ino hadn't seen you or Hinata or TenTen—I thought that you'd probably be with Sasuke but I couldn't find him either. Then I thought, 'what if you had been trapped inside during the fire?' but I've seen you escape from the most impossible of situations and there was _no_way something like a house fire could trap you. Oh, Sakura, you can't even believe how worried I've been! If something like this ever happens again, you just come directly to my house. I—"

"Naruto, could you give me and Sakura a minute please?" Ino asked, her eyes surveying Sakura's pallid face.

His words trickled off as he caught sight of the intent gaze the women were sharing. His grip loosened. "What's going on?"

Ino ignored him, continuing on as if he wasn't there. She moved closer, her mood uncharacteristically serious. "What did he do?"

"Who?" Naruto inquired.

Under Ino's heavy glare, Sakura felt her defenses crumbling. Her hands trembled as the emotions she had worked so hard to keep at bay thrashed and struggled against their restraints. She couldn't talk about this, couldn't think about it—not now. Her lips pressed into a thin line, tears balancing on the edges of her eyes.

"Am I right to assume that _she_ is involved?" The silence stretched longer, Sakura's gathering tears confirmation enough. Ino slammed her fist into her hand. "Sakura, I told you—I _warned_ you about her! I _knew_ it was only a matter of time. I can't believe this!"

"Can't believe _what_?" Bewildered, Naruto glanced between the two women, his hands slipping off Sakura's waist. His mind raced, working to make sense of the conversation.

Sakura stepped backwards, away from Ino's dark glare. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just tired; losing the house and all." The words fell from her lips chopped and broken, her voice rough as she tried to choke down her emotions.

Ino's gaze softened with understanding, her arms enclosing Sakura's hunched frame. "Oh Sakura."

She fell into the embrace, stifling her sobs against Ino's shoulder. "I was so stupid. So stupid. How couldn't I have seen—" her throat caught.

"You're not stupid Sakura, far from it." She gripped Sakura's shoulders, her eyes intent. "_You_did nothing wrong, so don't go bashing yourself. You need to save all that negative energy for a certain _pig_," she spat the word, "who's due for a castration."

Sakura's laughter was short, ringing with the high trill of anxiety. With her tears flowing faster than her trembling hands, she wiped at her face until frustrated, she yanked the sleeves of her lab coat over her wrists and pressed them to her eyes. _Breathe Sakura._ In—the air rattled in her chest—out—the lump in her throat stung. _You're okay._

Her hands fell to her sides as dark spots swarmed her vision. "I'm okay."

Uncertainty was swathed over Ino's face. "You sure? You can call off for today, you know."

"I'm fine. Really."

Exasperated, Naruto groaned. "Will someone _please_ explain to me what's going on?"

"Haruno-sama," a nurse called as she exited a room down the hall. "There's a ninja in room 250 who just got back from a mission. Just a little wear and tear; nothing too serious." She handed her the clipboard.

"Thank you." Her eyes barely skimmed the information the nurse had jotted down before returning to Naruto's concerned gaze. "I have to go."

He frowned. "But Sakura—"

"We'll talk after this patient. I promise." Her mind raced to figure out a way to slip away unnoticed.

He followed her down the hall, refusing her offers to sit in the nearby waiting room as Ino had done and opting to stand a few doors down from the room instead. No way to escape. Another sigh swelled in Sakura's chest as she entered the room, quickly scanning the clipboard for the patient's name. "Hello, I'm Haruno Sakura and I'll be taking care of you today—"

Instantaneously, she froze, her mouth poised to pronounce the name she had just read.

Misaki. She was treating Misaki.

Her eyes traveled upwards, all the while internally chanting scattered prayers—a mistake, let it be a mistake, the wrong clipboard, wrong room, not her, don't let it be her_,_don't let it be _them_, please please please please_please_—

She saw everything at once. The purpling bruises spanning across Misaki's arm, the messy bun her hair was piled in, the strange expression spreading across her face, the thin slices of red on her knuckles, on her left hand, on the thigh of a black haired, black eyed man whose gaze suddenly flickered from surprised to guilty to angry.

Weren't prayers supposed to be answered?

"Sakura." his voice was hard and angry, loaded with authority. The way a man talks to a dog, the way a man talks to his property. She felt his possessiveness cloak her skin, enveloping her.

"Where have you been? You have the audacity to set fire to my house and disappear? Your act of stupidity has cost us everything—everything we have is gone."

"I don't think this is the time for this." Misaki cautiously ventured into his tirade.

"I don't care what you think." He spat in return. "This is none of your concern."

She remained silent for a moment before defiantly retorting. "Considering my involvement in this situation, I think it is."

Sakura left as soon as his crippling glare shifted to Misaki. She walked briskly down the hall, trying to hear through the deafening pounding of her heart, the jagged breathing of her lungs.

His scowling face flickered behind her clouding vision. His indignant words echoed a thousand times in her ears. The house? His biggest concern was the house? Even now, was she still so trivial in his eyes?

She could feel her fury throbbing dangerously against her skin, its heat quickly overpowering and eclipsing her sorrow. What the hell did she have to be sorry for? The heat flooded her veins, burning through her skin. Her legs jerked to a stop. Her fingers flexed between a fist and a claw.

It was silent, save for the elevated beating of her heart. It was dark, save for the red seeping across her vision. Detached from her body, she was powerless, forced to spectate as her emotions took hold of her senses. She couldn't see Ino jump up from her seat, desperately trying to communicate with her. She couldn't hear Sasuke approaching, his steps matched by Naruto's. She couldn't see Ino's reaction once she caught sight of him, her own fury deforming her face. She couldn't hear her biting accusations—the way she flung her acid words and attacked him with her sharp insults. She couldn't even hear his incensed retorts, so familiar to her ears. Naruto's fuddled peacemaking, Misaki's defensive interjections—none of it.

But when Sasuke laid a hand on her shoulder, his grip enforced with authority, she felt it. She felt its sting all the way to her bone.

Her body's reaction was quick. Adrenaline surged abundantly through its veins. Whipping around with incredible speed, her fist rammed violently into his abdomen, her face disfigured with rage, her lips pulled into a grimace. _Kill him kill him kill him._

The chairs, the table, the cabinet—her arms heaved them in his direction, her voice a warbled mass of angry shrieks. Anything, anything, anything. The shelf, the flower pots—anything. The room blurred together. A glass tabletop shattered in a cacophony of rings. She felt someone grab her arm, then the other. The floor was littered with fractured wood. Her hysteric breathing permeated the silence.

She jerked free, pacing, her breathing jagged. Her fingers twisted violently in her hair. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Look at what you fucking did to me!" Images swirled, warped in her bleared vision. She couldn't see his face.

She turned around, crying. Always crying. Anger and misery and betrayal and pain and fear—her palms pressed into her temples, as if trying to compress her mind. She fell into a squat, curling into herself. She didn't want to feel this pain. She didn't want to feel this anymore. Tears squeezed through her shut eyes. Her teeth gritted. _Go away go away go away!_

She jolted down the hall, ignoring the concerned calls behind her. Running, running, running—away from him, away from the pain. She stumbled once as she hurriedly yanked off her heels but then she was running again, each stride feeling lighter as she went. Her feet carried her to her office where she scrambled to find the envelope, her stumbling fingers anxiously scattering papers and books and files. They were unimportant now; they would suspend her for her behavior. She didn't care. She wedged the envelope into her breast pocket before shrugging off her lab coat. Her shaky hands clumsily tugged on her sandals. It was worth it.

_Hurry hurry hurry._She scrambled through her office window, slipping and struggling in her descent. And then she was running, her feet slapping against the ground, her heart thudding in her chest. Her muscles began to ache, her throat dry. She kept running, going and going until the number of familiar faces dwindled to none. The steady pounding of her steps slowed as the time passed, her frantic pace falling into a heavy trudge. She wandered aimlessly through the crowds, her steps heavy with lethargy.

She was tired, so tired. _A little farther a little father._It was only when she had reached the outskirts of the village that her screaming legs stopped their weary trek, lugging their load into the moldy lobby of a motel.

From her bed, she spent hours watching the golden glow of the sunset seep across the sky, her face blank, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Hours later, the last slivers of light faded from the sky, as did her awareness. The cathartic numbness of sleep washed over her and welcoming the escape it provided, she fell eagerly into the warm darkness.

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The review button looks lonely. Why don't you click it and tell me what you thought?

Keep a look out for chapter three...maybe we'll hear Sasuke's side of the story? Or maybe not. I'll never tell...=3


	3. Chapter 3

Hey all. So this chapter was going to be much longer because there was going to be another section with a time skip and other stuff. But I decided to break it up into two chapters. So even though this chapter is shorter than you're used to, it's here alot earlier than intended.

One more thing, I love hearing what you all have to say about the story even if it's just correcting some grammar mistake I made. Every review is read and greatly appreciated. Thank you so much for all the feedback. =)

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The stagnant stench of ammonia and bleach hung heavily in the air; rough stiff sheets chafed at his exposed skin: the hospital. He opened his eyes, staring at the white tiled ceiling. He was in the hospital.

He shifted slightly and twisting lashes of pain tore through his abdomen, images flooding his memory. Sakura appearing in the doorway; her fist ramming into his stomach; the demolished waiting room.

As the memories faded, her face stayed; contorted with rage and hurt, tears spilling down her cheeks, her eyes reflecting the burdens on her heart. _Look at what you fucking did to me!_ The words echoed a thousand times in his head.

He gritted his teeth against the churning emotions in his stomach, the guilty thoughts. They were unneeded—unwanted—and he'd be able to reason better without them. His hands ran over his face in attempt to release the frustration. "Damn it."

"You awake?"

Sitting up to find the source of the voice proved to be an ill-advised plan and he found himself on his back once more; clutching desperately at his bandaged abdomen as his teeth gnashed in pain. He groped around blindly for the bed controls, quickly discovering which button elevated his head. Naruto's hunched form came into view. He was pensive, his elbows propped on his knees and his hands laced together in front of his face. The bed whirred to a stop. Neither of them spoke, each waiting for the other to begin.

"How long was I out?"

"All day yesterday and the night before. You had some internal bleeding so they had to operate."

Leaning backwards, Naruto sighed heavily. "Sakura is missing." He paused, his eyes carefully searching for a response before continuing. "The hospital wanted to suspend her for two weeks until they sorted all the legal stuff out. But yesterday, Tsunade received a message from Sakura that asked for a three week leave in addition to the length of her suspension." His fingers ran through his hair. He sighed. "The message also said that she was still in the village and she would appreciate privacy. So Tsunade won't even hear of a search team or anything. Ino, Hinata, TenTen—no one has a clue where she is. I'm half out of my mind worrying." The anxiety flickered wildly in his eyes.

It was silent again. Sasuke averted his gaze to the window and scanned the various tiled rooftops; searching. Sakura was missing, he had said. As soon as he was healed he would bring her back and they'd mend their relationship and go back to how things used to be—before, when they were happy. They'd get through it; they'd be fine.

"Sasuke." Naruto swallowed. His hand nervously rubbed at his neck. "Ino told me what she thinks happened between you and Sakura; why she doesn't want anyone to come looking for her." He looked sheepish; ashamed that he had actually thought seriously of information that came from Ino. "I told her she was full of it but I…I, uh, wanted to confirm it with you."

The ensuing silence swelled around them, pressing against their bodies with greater force as time passed. Naruto cleared his throat.

"Ino says you and Sakura have been having problems for the past two years. She says you guys barely talk anymore."

Sasuke looked downward, assessing the situation. The damage was done; there were no secrets to be kept anymore.

'Yeah."

"But I never—you always seemed fine when I saw you guys."

"Private matters are to be kept as such. There is a certain face one wears when in the public eye."

Naruto scrunched his nose. "That sounds like something from one of those self-help books. Who told you that?"

"My father."

The silence returned. Naruto coughed. "So then, when did things start going wrong?"

"It wasn't just one thing—"

"Just start at the beginning then.

The beginning? Which one? The beginning of everything when her touch felt like sunshine and her eyes were always singing? Or the beginning of the fighting when her muffled crying seeped through the guest room walls? Or the beginning of the affair when Misaki's smile made him forget about the broken woman waiting at home for him?

Sakura's accusing glare stared down at him and the guilt returned; churning restlessly in his stomach.

"We used to be happy. She smiled a lot. And laughed." He smirked at some distant memory. "Everything about her was warm. Warm—and bright. She was…" …the other part of him. His voice cut off as the sentence finished in his head. It was unconscious now: his tongue knew when to stop the words that would reveal too much, the words that were wrapped in emotions: perfect control. Cold and emotionless—that's how he had wanted to seem. And now he was.

Silence settled over him. He was still, sullenly gazing at the bedpost, seeing nothing. Sighing, he began again.

"A year later, she moved into my house. Sakura had always been stubborn but once she moved in, she became impossible. My role as head of the household intimidated her: she had been living alone for years and was not used to living under someone. She objected to any suggestion I made and I couldn't make her see logic. I wanted the best for her but she could never see the sense in what I said. In order to ensure her safety, I wanted her to work in the hospital rather than complete missions; she had complained about rude gestures from men so I told her to wear different clothing—rational things. We argued often but neither of us would give in. My tolerance for her defiance gradually faded and in order to make her compliant, I drew away from her; sleeping separately and ridding myself of any emotion that didn't exemplify my authority. " He paused, remembering how her cries followed him into his sleep. His stomach twisted. "It was for her own good."

"Eventually, she came to see things my way and the arguing stopped. For months I didn't realize—" his voice faltered as he submerged himself in his thoughts, disregarding Naruto's still form. "I didn't notice the change in her. I knew she didn't laugh as much as she used to but I figured that after three years, our relationship had cooled and it was natural. Then one day about five months ago, my team finished a mission early. It was around noon and I had the rest of the day to myself. Sakura was sitting at the table when I came in. She was still and she wasn't looking anywhere—just sitting. For the first time in nearly two years, I really looked at her. Her shoulders were hunched, heavy. And her face—her face…" He shook his head slightly. "There was this haggard sense about her—miserable, spiritless. Her eyes didn't shine anymore—she didn't shine. A minute later she noticed me and gave this horrid, painful excuse for a smile. And I realized that Sakura didn't smile anymore; not like she used to. She didn't laugh or sing or tease or joke." He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. "I didn't know this woman, this lifeless body. She was a stranger."

"I avoided her. Being around her was hurting the both of us. Looking at her face and seeing the misery in it made me angry and it showed in my words. I said horrible things to her—unkind things—and she never reacted. Never protested, never defended herself and that made me even angrier. I began coming home late and leaving early; minimizing any interaction between us. I could only see her at night while she slept."

He paused remembering how cold she felt and how her cheeks were always tear stained and how her hands twisted the sheets into knots. But her lips quivered like Sakura's and her nose twitched like Sakura's and she sighed like Sakura so he watched her; realizing that his old Sakura still existed within the stranger. It was Sakura that he was insulting, Sakura that he was ignoring. His perfect Sakura. He remembered how every night he found a thousand different ways to apologize and every morning they were lost with the sunrise. His tongue was dead in his mouth, unable to form words that comforted or caused joy or expressed love. His heart clenched.

"I couldn't bring myself to apologize, I was too proud. After all that trouble I had gone through to make her accept her role, apologizing would undermine my authority. So I slipped out before she woke up, going out of my way to make certain that our paths would never cross. It was for the best.

"In yet, I was unhappy. Each day was increasingly less bearable than the last. At times, I'd wake up to find her crying in her sleep—deep sobs—and I could do nothing to comfort her: I no longer knew how. We were too different. We rarely talked; our conversations were fleeting—composed of insignificant pleasantries and small talk, but the despair was thick behind each word. The misery fell heavier on me each day. I was at my lowest when I became involved with Misaki.

"It had been a specialized mission, one that required the skills of both of us. We completed it flawlessly. On our return trip, the weather became too difficult to travel through so we quickly set up camp." He swallowed.

"It was raining in heavy torrents and we were in the tent. It was too dark for five o'clock. We could barely see each other. But I could hear her. Without the mission hanging over us, she was talkative. She never waited for my response, knowing that I'd say nothing. I found her incessant chatter comforting and I couldn't figure why. Until she laughed. She laughed and it sounded like Sakura. Just like her."

He remembered the way he had strained his eyes to see, focusing intently on her face. She had fallen silent when she felt his gaze on her, waiting. Lightning flashed and he realized that her eyes were the same shade as Sakura's; the old shade that shone golden. She reached for him in the dark, held his face. "You're so sullen all the time. I used to be able to see happiness in your eyes. I want to see it again; to be the reason for it." He was silent. The tent flooded with light and there was Sakura, looking at him with understanding, running her fingers through his hair. He pulled her body to his. She felt like Sakura underneath his hands and sounded like Sakura when she whispered his name. Afterwards, when he had returned home and lay awake in bed next to Sakura, he saw the gravity of what he had done. But at that moment, the guilt was gone. He wasn't thinking of anything but the woman in his arms. For a moment, he was burdenless; free.

"It was easy to forget about Sakura when I was with Misaki. I didn't see her as a replacement or a partner or even a lover. She was just an outlet, impartial and casual sex to distract me. But as time went on, I could see in her eyes that she believed there was something more to the relationship. I wanted none of it. She yelled often. She wanted me to leave Sakura. I wouldn't. And even though I wouldn't heed her demands or return her affection, she never turned away from me. I'd lie in bed and feel her eyes on me; wishing and hoping. I didn't let it bother me. Instead, I decided to stop seeing her before things got any deeper."

"I made that decision a week ago. But I waited to tell her. And in that time, Sakura discovered an article of Misaki's among my dirty clothing. And she reacted destructively."

His narrative ended abruptly, the nonchalance of his final statement acting as a silent shrug. He waited for Naruto's reaction. He appeared calm enough but it was that disquieting calm that precedes the storm. His rage was there, patiently hovering behind his eyes like thick black clouds; waiting for the moment when it would be released. Sasuke studied him patiently; imperceptibly noting the tense way his hands knotted themselves together, the hard set of his jaw, the tight pull on the tendons in his neck.

His voice was rough when he spoke, subdued. "So the fire wasn't an accident."

"No."

"And Ino was right?"

Sasuke was silent, gauging Naruto's control. He could feel the way the anger roiled endlessly underneath his skin. It would overtake him any moment, it was inevitable.

"You were cheating on her?"

"Yes."

He heard the punch before he felt it, the way it crunched against his jaw. He cursed. He felt his head throbbing.

"Sakura wasted her life on a selfish piece of shit like you."

Naruto moved to the door, stiff with fury. He stopped in the doorway, his back to him.

"If I catch you even looking at her ever again, I'll rip you to fucking shreds."

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That review button is craving some attention. ;) Chapter 4 should be out shortly (hopefully. Emphasis on the hopefully)


	4. Chapter 4

Hello all! Sorry it's been so long (over a year!). Whenever I used to read stories that hadn't been updated in a year I always used to think, 'What could they possibly be doing for a whole year that would prevent them from updating?' And now that I write, I see that months can pass very quickly without you realizing.

Anyway, thank you for those who patiently waited. The next chapter is halfway done and will **definitely** be out in less than a year. Hopefully, much less. Enjoy!

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"Sakura, where the hell are my orders?"

"Right here!" she called as she slid five steaming plates on the plastic platter and carefully carried it to Kazumi who, with a finger rapidly tapping her invisible watch, was thoroughly irritated.

"It's about time! Geez oh man, this is heavy. I'm gonna blow out my shoulder before noon. Working twelve hours a day for God damn peanuts!" she worked as she spoke, piling napkins and small bowls of condiments on her load. "I need to retire. Isshin just came in for his lunch break. You remember how he likes his tea? Strongly brewed, a spoonful of sugar. You've got three more orders waiting to be filled so pick up the pace!"

The job wasn't easy. But the morning after the hospital debacle, she had needed to be around people, doing _something_. It was too early for self reflection, her heart was too raw. So, she had taken to wandering the streets, deliberately focusing on the new surroundings rather than the smothered emotions inside of her. A few hours later she had stumbled upon a square concrete building sunken into the ground on the corner. Tendrils of vines and vegetation crept silently across the façade, framing the windows and doors. Barely visible with its faded print and yellowing corners was a forgotten 'Now Hiring' sign taped to the corner of the window.

Moist humidity brushed against Sakura's skin as she entered the doorway, a small silver trill announcing her arrival. Hardly aesthetic, the building had served its use with a sunken wooden floor and chipped concrete walls. Faded sheets of peach wallpaper clung to the side walls and an obscure earthy color was plastered on the back. A muffled rattling of water coursing through pipes echoed in the room. Despites its wear, the restaurant wore its age brazenly, somehow boasting of experience with its sagging ceiling and stuck windows. At 8 o'clock, the tight dining room was nearly empty; only a somber knobby man hunched over his plate of eggs. Vigorously, a small woman wiped the tables with a thinning rag.

Having been orphaned at 14 and self-raised, Kazumi was a stone of a woman. At exactly five foot one with a thin granite frame and a gait that matched the stride of any man, her presence overtook the room. She dressed in plain cut clothes, browns and blacks and grays— mostly cotton. "I'm not one for lipstick and glamour." She had told Sakura one morning as she wound her coarse black hair into a thick bun. "I wear clothes for comfort. Mainly to cover my personal areas, but also for comfort. Practical clothing, not those white silks and satins. I work six to six every day, every week in this grease pit. If I bought a white silk shirt, it would brown up by the lunch shift!"

Sliding uncertainly towards the woman, Sakura addressed her bent back.

"Uh, excuse me?"

"Yep?" her eyes swept across the table in time with her hand.

"My name is Sakura. I noticed you had a sign in your window that said 'Now Hiring'. I—"

"You ever work in an eatery before?"

"No, but—"

"Are you good with your hands?"

"Pretty good."

"You're not a loon, are you?"

"What?"

"I can't have crazies working in my kitchen. What with all the knives and cutlery. You're sane, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well alright then. I don't necessarily need the help but I guess I could use it. That sign went up six years ago when Hana moved to the Grass country. I didn't get any takers so I made a one-woman-job out of a three-man one: taking orders, cooking and cleaning. "

Kazumi rubbed out a stain with her thumb before turning to appraise her new hire. One hand pressed against the table, the other rested on her angled hip. Her face wrinkled as she scanned her over. Gray and clear, her eyes diligently read and followed the lines and curves of Sakura's face. She felt herself fidgeting under the gaze.

"You from this part of town Sakura?" she wrung her hands as she shook her head. She hadn't thought of being interviewed.

"Hmmm." Kazumi's mouth pursed and her eyes became slitted strips of gray. She'd seen it before, asking for a job at a subpar restaurant while wearing a day old business casual outfit. Fleeing. From what—she didn't know. But the weariness sunken into her face was begging for obscurity, a 'no questions asked' beginning without past burdens or an identity. Kazumi sighed. She wouldn't escape it; problems always came back to latch onto the heart. But At least she could give her a blank beginning, a moment of freedom.

"Alright, you check out okay." She wiped her hands on her apron before holding her hand out stiff in front of her. "I'm Kazumi. Call me Kaz if you like. I don't like nonsense, distractions or wasting time. I have a schedule and I like sticking to it. If you like to dilly daddle and mess around, you might as well turn around and walk right back out that door. This is a job: you come to work." She abruptly moved towards the kitchen, Sakura falling into step.

"Don't mind the air: it only happens like this in the morning and evening. A couple of the windows never shut and the foggy mornings seep their way into here. The heat of the afternoon will sizzle it up." She swung open a gray door. "This here's the kitchen. You've got your utensils on the right, your plates on your left and your pots and pans hanging from the ceiling. There's the grill and there's the oven. A friend of mine gave me that gas stove you see over there but I don't trust it too much so I take to using my old one. Use whichever you like. The fridge holds the foods that spoil; the cabinets hold the ones that don't. Recipe book's on that top shelf. Take a look at it; acquaint yourself with the terms. Try not to reference it too much as you cook, it'll slow you down. I'll help you along with the cooking today so you get a hang of it. Lunch rush is at noon sharp. Get to reading."

And so the work began. Three days was enough time for her to fall into Kaz's rhythm and a week was enough time to adopt it as her own. There weren't any problems: not with the restaurant, not with herself. Working for twelve hours left her exhausted; by the time she managed to reach her room, she was already half asleep, her feet barely able to make the trip to her bed. She woke, she worked, she slept—thinking about Sasuke didn't fit into the schedule, sorting out emotions didn't fit into the schedule, feeling anything didn't fit into the schedule. She moved emptily, thoughtlessly going through the motions of her day and she was happy for the escape.

The bell atop of the door rung as the last diner left. Sakura swept the floor; Kazumi straddled a chair as she listened to the whispering movements of the broom.

"Did you wash the dishes?"

"Yes." she weaved between the tables.

"Wiped the counter tops?"

"Yes."

"The oven, the grill, the stove—"

"All off. And yes, I checked twice. The trash was taken out and I restocked the cabinets."

Kazumi nodded. "You're a quick learner Sakura. And very hardworking. I barely have anything to do anymore." Sakura smiled slightly, continuing across the room.

"You know, I was talking to my neighbor the other day and she was telling me about this house fire on the other side of the village—near the hospital."

Panic shot through her veins—could she see the way it settled in her eyes?

Kazumi picked at her nails "Happened about a week ago. They say it wasn't an accident. Did you hear anything about it?" Sakura's head shook as the rhythm of the broom slowed.

"Well whoever did it must have been pissed beyond belief. I knew this guy named Haru once. Kinda average, but goodness, he was charming like the devil. Never been so in love in my life. After he proposed to me I found out he'd been living a double life: a whole other family—kids and everything. I only broke his jaw but his other fiancée burned down his house. It really got the point across."

Her rough laugh echoed against the slate walls, reverberating around Sakura's nearly still form. She forced her hands to drag the broom against the boards.

Her last straggling chuckles ebbed and Kazumi continued to reminisce. "Ah, Haru. That first week, just thinking of him used to throw me into a frenzy. I didn't want to work on all the mayhem swimming around in my head. Easier to put it off, you know. But after a certain point, all of the stuff comes bubbling out anyway, no matter how hard you're clamping on the lid. And once that happens, you can forget about trying to save face in public. I learned that the hard way. I'd cry over the stove and knock over cups and drop trays of food. Then I'd get frustrated, then mad, and then frustrated because I was getting mad—whoowee, I was a mess. Glad I'm done with that."

Kazumi climbed over her chair and stretched before heading toward the closet to gather her things. The invitation hovered over Sakura's head, pressing closer as Kazumi's path approached the door.

Though her mouth was too dry and her breathing too thin and her chest too tight, she forced herself to speak. "How?"

She looked up thoughtfully before responding. "You can't just sit down and sort out your mind when it's frazzled like that. It can go all over the place. But if you're busy doing something, you can focus your energy on that. It wouldn't work at all with cooking: I tried it and nearly burned down the kitchen. Now something like beating rugs, that's good. Easy and repetitive. Whenever I started thinking of him and getting mad, I used to drag my rug out to the yard and clean it. I'd just beat and beat until I'd straightened that emotion out. When the anger was spent, along came the sorrow and I'd beat until that was straightened out too. Next thing you know, all my rugs were clean and I wasn't a quivering jumble of nerves anymore.

"Well, I've gotta get to bed. If you have a little energy left, would you mind scrubbing the dining room floor? It's been a while since I've done it." Sakura glanced at the clock. "Right now?"

"Night time is the best time. I mean, you can plan to do it in the morning before we open but the chances of you waking up that early are slim."

"Waking up really isn't a—" Kazumi's eyes met hers. "Really, I insist. It's a pain but it has to be done. And I'm telling you, this is the time."

She weaved through the tables, Sakura's eyes following behind her. "Don't forget to lock up. I'll see you tomorrow morning." She paused at the door, her hand resting against the frame. "What's his name?"

"Sasuke." The whisper hung heavily in the air.

Kazumi nodded once and left, the ringing of the bell echoing through the room.

Carefully, she retrieved her tools. The brush lay awkwardly in her palm, the bucket heavy in the crook of her arm. Where to begin?

She moved the tables and chairs to the edges of the room; pushed the broom achingly slow across the floor. By the time she filled the bucket, an hour had crept by. Had the dining room always been so large? She exhaled. _You'll have to deal with it eventually. _Gently, she submerged the brush, her movements unhurried. Her hand and her mind began to work.

The end, she decided, was the best place to start. At the dining table, falling to pieces over a man who didn't love her. It shouldn't have been such a surprise that he had turned to someone else. Viscerally, within the depths of her denial, she had known the truth. The truth that, even if she had acknowledged its validity, would not have pushed her to leave. Because her mind couldn't reason with a heart that, even in pain, still pined for him. Sasuke and Sakura: They were a unit. Inseparable. Troubles came and went but they were one. Together.

The brush stilled as tears dotted the wooden floor boards. Her quivering hands yanked at her shirt, scrubbing at her face. Why couldn't she stop crying? She never used to cry this much; not before. Then again, she was a different person before. The rhythm began again. But wasn't she still the same person? Wasn't she still strong-willed and confident and stubborn behind these hunched shoulders? She stopped scrubbing, hanging her head. The woman she was now couldn't handle the current situation: she shirked from the emotions. The woman she used to be could do it though—withstand the force weighing down her shoulders and stand tall. All she had to do was find her.

The key, like she had tried to convince herself of before, was confidence: something she lacked. Undo the damage, counter the insults. She allowed the rhythm of the bristles against the wood guide her.

Smart. Useful. Strong. Pretty. Clever. Kind. Valued. Wanted. Needed. Loved.

Sweat slid down her neck and her back, trickled into the pockets behind her knees. The moisture in the air condensed on her skin. The sudsy water bathed her limbs.

In an hour's time, damp with sweat and humidity she wearily wiped her forehead. Both the floor and her eyes were shining.

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Reviews? Please and thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey all. Sorry for the wait. Here's chapter five!

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From her place on the dresser, Kazumi watched Sakura pack away her meager belongings. "To think, when you first came in here, you looked like something out of a horror film—"

"Gee, thanks Kaz."

She smiled. "And now, you're leaving looking like a female warrior." Sakura smiled, shaking her head as she added to the pile of clothes in the suitcase. "I wouldn't say a warrior..."

She had moved into the musty apartment above the restaurant after Kazumi had found out about Sakura's early morning scrubbing sessions, brought on by particularly off-putting dreams that rattled her confidence. "That way I won't get calls at two in the morning describing a dark figure entering the place. Nearly scared me to death."

Despite the burden, she had worked with her pain, gradually conquering each memory, retracing her steps through the past few years to collect each piece of her that had been lost. After two weeks of nightly cleansing, the crying had ebbed and the self-pity had settled, allowing space for anger and betrayal to surface. They had scorched their way across her skin until she couldn't bear the throbbing urge to destroy something. Unlike sadness, ire had proved harder to tame as it pulsed and flared at various points during the day, forcing her to settle for dishwashing and wood chopping and vine clipping: easily accessible tasks for the short, sudden stints of emotion spurred by a stray thought or memory. Kazumi had urged her to continue. "I know it's a bitch to deal with but one day, when you wake up and your first thought isn't about him, you'll be happy you did it."

Then one morning, stretching as she woke, her sleep rimmed eyes had focused on the warm streams of yellow reaching across the ceiling. Entangled in the sheets, she sat up, admiring the golden and blush hues of the sun as it glided into the sky.

Moving to the window, she sat on the sill, bathed in light. Just sitting. Breathing. The warmth felt nice against her skin, comforting and airy. She sighed, content. Her translucent reflection smiled softly at her. She was Haruno Sakura, and finally, _finally_, she had woken up and Uchiha Sasuke was not in one of her thoughts.

"You sure you don't want to hang out here a little while longer? You've still got a few days until the full five weeks are up. And I'm sure if you asked for more time the Hokage would be happy to give it to you—"

"I'm fine Kaz. For the first time in two years, I'm feeling a little bit more like me." she zipped close the suitcase and smiled at her. "Besides, if I postpone my return, I'm allowing him to still have power over me."

"That's what I like to hear. So when are you gonna talk with you-know-who?"

Sakura scoffed as she headed towards the stairs. "Never, if I can help it."

"You know you'll have to talk it out eventually. You've put all this energy into sorting out your inner demons and now you need to express exactly what's on your mind."

"There is no talking with Uchiha Sasuke. His words are law—period. I can't tell him what I'm feeling."

"I didn't say tell him anything. You can tell a dog all your problems, doesn't mean he'll understand. Talk _with_ him. Discuss. Understand each other. If it turns into a fight, it means one of you, if not both, aren't ready yet. Take a break, start again later. But you've gotta talk to the boy before you can truly begin to move on." she shrugged. "You never know, something good could come out of it."

Sakura turned, incredulous. "'Talk to Sasuke or I'm never going to get past this?' Is this really the sage advice you're leaving me with? Because I was hoping to hear something a little more optimistic."

"It's good advice girl; you better listen to it!"

"Yes, yes: Kaz knows best. You've been around the block etc, etc." their smiles filled the silence.

"You always have a space here if you need it." Sakura nodded and swallowed, feeling the weight of the goodbye hovering between them.

"I can't tell you how grateful I am. For the room and the job and the clothing—thank you, for everything."

Kazumi gripped her hands. "That's the least I could do to help. If I could've helped more I would've but finding yourself is something you have to do on your own." She pulled Sakura into a hug.

"You've still got some work in front of you. You've gotta make sure you will never disappoint yourself again. Make it so that no matter what happens around you, you can always count on yourself to have your back. If everything falls to shit, you should be able to trust yourself over everybody else."

* * *

It was uncomfortable to be outside in August in Konoha. The heat aggressively shoved its way throughout the streets, pressed against the citizens' skin, leaving no room for air to pass. But turning on an oven in such weather was unbearable and so at meal times, the people reluctantly entered the heat and moved en masse towards various restaurants and food stands. Sasuke traveled by rooftop, hoping in vain that a traveling breeze might find them—him. He looked to his side, grateful not to see Misaki impatiently brushing golden flyaways from her face. It was a rarity to be by himself. He had moved into Misaki's apartment for convenience's sake: he had a few articles of clothing there and with Naruto not speaking to him; she was, by default, his closest acquaintance. She reveled in the proximity, uninhibited by secrecy, and insisted on accompanying him nearly everywhere. Fortunately, a mission had called her away from his side.

He jumped to the ground and began to walk, still thinking. He would need to leave soon. Five weeks had almost passed since the incident and Sakura would be returning. When his search for her had run cold within the first week, he decided to wait instead, passing the time by beginning to rebuild the house. He had hoped that the contractors would be close to finishing by then but the elevating heat levels had hindered their progress and allowed them to only lay the foundation.

Rounding the corner on his way to the market, he looked over at the Ichiraku stand. As expected, Naruto, who seemed to be there at any time of the day, was already on his second bowl. It seemed as though he was hardly eating however, too involved in his conversation. Sasuke squinted, curious as to whom Naruto was speaking so animatedly with. Since Sakura's departure, he had remained relatively quiet and—

Of course.

She wasn't eating, just listening to Naruto's chatter. Still thin and withdrawn but somehow—different. Something about her frame: more erect, less defeated. She noticed him approaching right as she had begun to answer some question of Naruto's; her face immediately sank into silent blankness.

"Sakura." Naruto tensed, turning towards him, waiting for the wrong words to be said. She shook her head slightly and touched his arm to ease him. She remained still with her face away from him.

He struggled to find the words to begin a conversation. "It hasn't been five weeks yet." She said nothing.

"You should've told me you were coming back early. I would've booked a room for us." Silence.

He cleared his throat. "They've started rebuilding the house. It should be done by the end of the month. In the meantime, we'll purchase new furniture." No response. "Hardly anything survived the fire." His gaze was directed at her motionless face, leaving him oblivious to the clenching of her fist.

"I realize that you were upset however, you could have expressed it more effectively." Why wouldn't she speak? Frustration and anger coated his words.

"Respond Sakura!"

Sluggish in the midst of the heat, it took him a moment to register why his body had instinctively jumped out of the way and why Sakura held an empty ramen bowl. She slung the steaming ceramic at his feet and its fragments littered the ground. "What is wrong with you?!"

"Shut up." She worked her jaw as she paced to control herself.

"I'm trying to—"

Her glare was deliberate. "I said shut up!" Sakura moved towards him as she spoke. "I spent the last few weeks distraught and miserable and suffering, hardly sleeping, just…just…fucked up and all you can seem to talk about is that goddamn house!"

Turning from him, she breathed deeply and moved towards the counter. Slowly and carefully, she unfolded her wallet and counted out the money to cover the spilled ramen. She spoke with her back to him.

"There is no way I can carry on a conversation with you anytime soon. I was sure that I would be able to control my anger the next time I saw you. I guess I got ahead of myself. I'll talk to you when I'm ready." she returned her wallet to her pocket. "Sorry Naruto, we'll catch up another time okay."

As he moved his hand toward her, she jerked away; anger and regret thrashed within him. "When will you be ready?"

"When I can look at your face without wanting to murder you."

* * *

August days were slow to expire. Time lagged sluggishly, weary from the heat. He saw her often by actively crossing their paths whenever he could. How long had she been back? A week? Two? Minutes and hours and days melted into one another. He never spoke, only waited. She never spoke either, making it a point to never acknowledge his presence. Days came and went and came and went until finally, one day as she exited the hospital and he waited across the street, she met his gaze and nodded.

She crossed the street in the light of the sunset, walking with a new gait. Not the small, controlled steps he was used to but nor was it the confident stride of her past. He rose and she gestured for him to sit.

Turned towards the setting sun, she seemed to be thinking—or waiting. So he began.

"What I did was irresponsible and uncalled for. I—I want—" What could he say to express his regret, reverse his transgression? If only she could see the unspoken words in his eyes, find the emotions he wanted to portray in his dialogue.

Her eyes held no softness, no recognition of his remorse. How could she possibly decipher his true words? He had hid his emotions from her years ago, fearing that she might notice the guilt in his eyes and take it as weakness. Emotionless, just as he had wished.

She sighed. "After I moved in, all I wanted was you—not freedom, not dignity: only you." she looked at him, her eyes weary. "Do you realize how wrong that is? For someone to want someone else more than they want their own life? I sacrificed everything I was just to please you, just so you would love me. All that sacrifice just for you to throw it away for _her_. Like I didn't even matter." She breathed deeply. "A few years ago, I would've sworn on my life that you would never be unfaithful. You wouldn't hurt me like that. Yes, you insulted me and made me feel like shit but cheating? Uchiha Sasuke would never betray me like that. Not you. Yet here we are!" the bitter laugh shook her frame, spilling tears from her eyes. The wind stirred the silence between them.

"Do you understand Sasuke, how much pain you've inflicted on me? If you didn't want me anymore, why didn't you just leave?"

They were a unit. Inseperable. Troubles came and went but they were one. Together. "You are mine and I am yours. Despite anything that happens, nothing can change that." An odd feeling of desperation clenched his stomach when she turned her gaze away. He grasped her hand. "You said that, in the beginning. You said I wouldn't be alone."

Her voice was a whisper. "And what about me, Sasuke? What about me? Don't you think I hate being alone?"

"You're not alone."

Another bitter laugh broke her words. "Not alone? What we have isn't a relationship. You've been avoiding me. I've been a ghost. This is the first true conversation we have had in years. We might as well have been two strangers living under one roof."

He felt his chest tightening. "We can change things."

There was a sense of expectancy in her sorrowful smile, as if she had been waiting for these words. "We could never go back to how it was in the beginning: we're different people. We don't know each other anymore. If I go back, nothing will change. If I leave, I can find happiness again."

Leave? The word ripped through him, leaving his heart shuddering. "What are you saying Sakura?"

She sighed and raised her hands to cradle his face. "You've given me the happiest moments of my life and for that, I'll always be grateful. But I'm tired of the misery and the crying and the loneliness. I have to make myself the priority now."

_No no no no no no no_—she couldn't leave. There was so much more to say. His mind screamed yet his mouth dried. He stared, wordless, as she lifted her face to his.

The kiss was brief but burned with such finality; its unspoken whisper would seep into all his dreams.

_Goodbye._

* * *

So, tell me what you thought. Also, chapter six is ready to go! Though it's much shorter than usual... You win some, you lose some.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you for all your reviews! Sorry about the length of this chapter. I know it's rather short but I felt that it read better by itself rather than as the opening to what is now chapter seven. But since it's short, I figured I'd release it now rather than making you wait. Chapter seven will be much longer: I promise. Enjoy!

**Edit 3/12**: Changed the very end. It felt off and a lot of you saw that. Enjoy!

* * *

She left.

The days were indiscernible. Shrouded in numbness.

She was gone.

Everything he had done…

_Stop_. He didn't want to feel anything. Anything that reminded him of her.

Nothingness was safe. He reveled in it, this paralysis of thought and emotion.

_No._ He wanted to feel everything. Everything that remind him of her.

Where was she now? It was three, wasn't it? Still working. He could stop by—

What was the point? She made her choice. His anger stirred and stretched within him. It worked quickly, tearing away at the numbness.

It was undeserved, he knew, but anger was familiar. Much more accessible than the guilt and sorrow picking pathetically at their confines in the recesses of his mind. It swelled, leaving no room for anything else.

Ungrateful. Selfish. Had she forgotten her promises to him? How could she abandon him? He made a mistake! A mistake!

A mistake. So many mistakes.

He watched a wearied face contort in the mirror. Ashamed, betrayed, remorseful, furious, lonely, sorrowful, sorry. So sorry.

He didn't want to feel anymore.

Suppression was useless now; everything emerged at night. All the dreams. Watching her laugh and sing and live as he suffered, alone. He wanted to watch her laugh.

He wanted to wake up.

He had forgotten the slow burning of loneliness. Hadn't she saved him from it when it had roared and licked dangerously at his heart? Without her, he would remain alone. There would be no other.

He had had her. A shield, a comfort. He was weak without her. The loneliness enveloped him, seeping into his bones. Alone. Alone. The emptiness of the word echoed in his mind. How could he have lost her? How could he?

* * *

As she shifted through the mail, Misaki heard Sasuke's light steps on the wooden stairs behind her. "Hey! I was thinking we could stay in for dinner tonight now that it's cool enough to turn on the stove and not die from heatstroke. I'd just have to make a quick run to the market. How does that sound—"

She turned and the immediate lump in her throat ensnarled her words as she struggled to speak. A bag on his back. A bag on his back. A bag— "What's going on?"

It was probably just a mission, only a mission. Anxious, her heartbeat sped as panic trickled across her skin: had it always been so hard to breathe? "I didn't realize you would be here." Dread, heavy in her eyes, dragged her line of sight downwards, towards the paper he held. She was surprised how quickly her hand moved despite its trembling. Faintly, she heard him paraphrase the message on the paper as she read.

"I'm leaving. Thank you for allowing me to stay for this period of time." he bowed and walked through the dining room as if it was normal. As if the air tainted by his announcement wasn't smothering her.

Leaving? His words crumpled between her fingers. Bewildered and astonished, she followed him. "To go where? Do what? You have nowhere to go."

"After October, construction on my house will be postponed until winter passes. Since the house will not be finished for some time, I rented an apartment temporarily. I appreciate—"

"So that's it? You stay here for a month and half and now you just want to leave? You just want to sneak out of here with this fucking _note_." Aggressively, she shoved his shoulder. "Could you not even say it to my face?" she pushed, with growing force. "Why didn't you just throw down a few bills and write 'thanks for your services'? Huh, Sasuke? Why do you want to leave—?" impatiently, he snatched her wrist.

"I told you that I needed a place to stay temporarily until I sorted things out. The house won't be done for several months. I won't inconvenience you and stay here until its completion. I don't see what is difficult to understand."

Defiantly, she broke his grip and folded her arms. "It's not—" biting her lip in her discomfort; she averted her gaze to the window. "Me. Why do you want to leave me?"

His eyes narrowed. There it was: his displeasure. His disapproval. His 'I'm-sick-of-you-and-your-stupid-emotions' look. She hated—absolutely hated—that look. But she'd rather have it than nothing at all.

"Misaki."

She moved towards him, accusing, glaring. "Do _not_ use that tone with me. Speaking to me like I'm a child! You can't—"

"I've made clear that what occurred between us was to be nothing more than that. My living here has not changed that."

Well, so much for letting her guard down. She allowed the rage to spring into her features and mask the twist of rejection. Overuse had made the defense instinctive, a trait she shared with Sasuke. However, she had been using it much longer than him; she had mastered it, able to summon it swiftly and easily. A hot-head, quick to anger, mean-spirited, bitch. She was all those things: she embraced her titles. Yet with the proximity, it hadn't taken Sasuke long to discover the emotional woman hiding behind her public label. Now, her façade was useless against him, just another annoyance to ignore.

"Bullshit! I'm not good enough for anything more than a few fucks and a place to stay? Like some low-class whore?!" the furnishings atop the bookshelf crashed against the floorboards in a jumble of thuds and clangs. "Fuck you Uchiha! You selfish piece of shit!" nearby objects tumbled towards him, ricocheting off the wall and skidding across the floor. Unbothered by the tantrum, Sasuke calmly moved through the living room towards the front door, away from her. It was nothing new to him. Misaki's tirade began to quiet as the plea inside her grew in volume. _Don't leave don't leave don't leave don't—_spurred by urgency, her quick steps pattered against the floor. She gripped the doorway to the front hall, heaving and tired and unwanted but he was walking towards the door and she had to stop him because this stinging in her chest would ruin her eventually if she couldn't have him now, now that _she_ was gone—

"She doesn't want you anymore!" The biting words swirled sluggishly in the ensuing silence, lingering in the still air. As the image of his unmoving back warped in her bleary vision, she gritted her teeth against the tears. "She told you herself…it's over. It's over."

Was that a sigh? Was he reconsidering? Hopeful but tentative, she approached him, wrapping her arms around his frame. Her reminder had moved him somehow; thrust him into some contemplation where he weighed his thoughts behind closed eyes. Had she done it? Had she finally succeeded? A growing sense of victory within her withered when he broke from his reverie, the yellow hair spilling over his shoulder changing the softness in his eyes: it had not been the sight he had expected to see. He wanted pink. He wanted her. "Sasuke. Stay. I can't—" her struggle revealed itself in her tightening grip, her hoarse whisper. "Please. Don't make me beg." Her breathing quickened with the stretching silence. Moving around him, she reached for his face. The worry crinkled her brow, sallowed her cheeks.

"We could be something too. You and me. Why not try? I don't want much. You don't have to do anything. Just stay. Please. I—" defeat strangled her words and there ended her appeal. Through the tears she could see his certainty, the absoluteness in his decision. Her trembling fingers grasped at his hair. She wanted him. Him alone. Why couldn't he need her? Why couldn't he love her? Violent sobs jerked through her chest, her vision swimming, her body folding into itself. "Please Sasuke? Please?"

Stooping, he carried her into the living room, maneuvering around the broken projectiles. On the couch he held her close, allowing her to cry. She found no comfort in the temporary embrace: she knew, as did he, that he'd make his exit as she slept, to soften the blow and avoid the tears. This was his goodbye. So he said nothing when she hissed 'asshole' between sobs. So she said nothing when he held her in response.

* * *

Thoughts?


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry, sorry! It's been forever, I know. I'll leave all the author note stuff at the bottom so you can start reading.

* * *

How she survived yet another long hospital shift was beyond her because every time she stumbled home, Sakura was absolutely positive her body wouldn't survive one more day of paperwork and standing and running and healing. She rubbed at her neck in exhaustion. At least her bed was waiting. Just the idea of lying horizontally nearly made her pick up her painstakingly slow pace. She glanced pitifully at her aching feet. Nearly.

Just a few more streets. Just a few more streets. The echo of her feet plodding across the ground seemed to be the only sound she could hear. With some concentration, she could make out her little shallow breaths. Where was everyone?

It was so dark. And cold. Her neck felt bare against the chill. Unthinkingly, she smoothed down her hair. For the first time in years, it was above her shoulders. It was new, but she kind of missed it long. Sasuke liked it longer.

She shook her head.

How late was it? The walk home seemed to be taking forever. Her feet were moving slower than the lugs of her heart. Her breath curled in white wisps against the darkness. When she was alone like this, she couldn't deny the emptiness within her.

_You're better off._

Was she so sure? Because above the healing and mending and readjusting and rediscovering was this thick, heavy nothingness in her chest. It was distracting. And bothersome.

_You _willingly _left him. Don't complain about loneliness._

But he could fix it, couldn't he? He could fill that void—

She shook her head.

Sighing deeply, she rubbed at her temples. What she would give to have this man out of her head.

And then suddenly, he was there, in her path. It was too late to turn around. It was too late for this.

Crossing her arms, she shifted her weight to her right foot which seemed slightly less sore than the other. "It really couldn't wait until daylight?"

"I can't reach you during the day. You work a lot."

Silence swept between them, prickling Sakura's skin as she waited for something—anything really that wasn't this drained, sad look that pulled at his face. It was odd to see misery gaunt the features of a face that had been void of any emotion but anger for years. Unsettling, almost, in the way it stirred something within her. She waited for him to speak through this eternal moment, all the while, those penetrating eyes of his intently searched her face.

"What is it?"

He spoke, and his voice was hoarse, his eyes accusing. "You left me alone."

"Because you erased me! I feel like a fucking broken record trying to explain this to you!" Her heart returned to its normal pace before she spoke again, softer. "I've already made a lot of progress Sasuke. I can't go back. Not now, not ever." She had barely finished speaking before she felt his hands grip her arms and watched as desperation clutched at his throat, stealing his words. "Sakura—" There they were, all the emotions he had smothered over the past two years brewing tumultuously behind his breaking face.

Why did she feel so alarmed?

Slowly, intoxicatingly slow, one hand slid up her shoulder and gently held her face. She only hesitated for a moment before she leaned into the touch. "I can't—" he sighed heavily. "I can't keep living without you."

She looked into his eyes and it was like four years had never passed and he was the man who poked her sides to hear her laugh and who carried her home after a double shift and who installed window blinds on the skylight so she could sleep. Her Sasuke.

She shook her head. No. "Leave me alone." the waver in her voice only increased her panic.

But then she was in his arms and his presence was swallowing her and her resistance melted. Because it was Sasuke. _Sasuke._ "Please Sakura." He whispered and it vibrated throughout her entire body. His fingers were on her temple, on her chin, on her lips, persuading, persuading. "We belong together. We belong to each other. You should be with the one you love."

Sakura took a step back and ripped herself from the words she was beginning to believe, her cheeks still warmed from his fingers. She would say these words slowly and carefully so that he could feel their full effect and could not read the lie in them. "I hate you."

"Don't lie Sakura." His smirk shook her. The sensation of his fingertips on her face sent cold streams of dread down her spine where they pooled in her stomach. But she liked it. "You still love me." His grip on her face was tight—she couldn't escape. She didn't want to escape. Inches away, his lips dangled before her and she unwillingly fell into them, tears staining her cheeks, dropping onto his hand. Sobbing and soaring: it hurt. Why did she still love him? Why did she still love him?

The bed sheets were twisted around her limbs and her quickened breath matched the rapid beating in her chest. Sweat slicked down the loose hairs floating around her face. Her hand gingerly probed her cheek. A dream. Like the others. Deep calming breaths swirled in her chest. A dream.

* * *

Sakura glared tiredly around the chestnut armoire. "Ino, you're not even lifting."

Ino shot her a glare to match. "Sakura, you're freakishly strong. Besides, I'm here more for emotional support."

"Oh right, how could I forget. Now could you channel some of that emotional support into your arms and lift this please?" Reluctantly, Ino hoisted her side higher as the pair carefully climbed the stairs.

"It's finally cool enough that I can go outside without my hair frizzing and you are forcing me to do physical labor. Ugh." Sakura rolled her eyes. "Friends help each other move Ino. It's a thing."

"Friends don't cause friends to herniate a disk." Ino groaned through gritted teeth as the weight of the furnishing was shifted in Sakura's attempt to open the door of the stairwell. Bent over, they scuttled into her apartment and dropped their load with a tired grunt. Ino's moan persisted as she slumped against the furniture and slid dramatically to the ground, managing to turn onto her back before sprawling her limbs across the floor. Sakura observed her, partially annoyed yet partially attuned to the behavior.

"You know, if he was in town, Naruto would've jumped to help me."

Ino's hands became puppets as she mimicked Sakura in a high-pitched tone. "Naruto-this, Naruto-that. Naruto's such a good friend; Naruto is so loyal, blah blah blah." She turned onto her stomach, propping her head up on her wrist. "You'd think he was your only friend the way you talk."

"I'm sorry; Naruto helped me get me this apartment amongst other things. What have you done for me lately?"

Gesturing to the various boxes and furnishings spread across the room, she huffed in surprise. "Um, hello? Who has been carrying your stuff all day?"

Shaking her head tiredly, Sakura rummaged through bags in search of provisions. "Ino, you've carried a grand total of three boxes. Two of which contained pillows and blankets. Naruto would've at least moved a few more than that before he started complaining." Victorious, she extracted two water bottles and a bag of chips from the heap of belongings piled in the corner. The chips were ripped from her hands in seconds. And of course, because Ino wasn't one to stick to etiquette in the presence of her friends, she continued the conversation despite the food overtaking her mouth.

"Whatever. Three boxes are better than none. You should be grateful I'm even here at all." Sakura smiled slightly at Ino's hair flip and playfully haughty tone before gradually falling silent, blankly gazing at the dingy carpet.

Brushing the crumbs off her fingers, Ino propped herself on her elbow and watched Sakura unthinkingly smooth a strip of hair. It was easy to guess where her thoughts were from the way her brow wrinkled. "Still thinking about him, I see."

Relunctantly, Sakura nodded and sighed. Her eyes trailed to the window. "I wonder how he is sometimes." All the time. His desperate eyes from her dreams studied her whenever she left her brain to wander. And so she wouldn't.

She pushed off the couch, grabbing the discarded bag and empty bottles as she made her way to the kitchen. "Enough talking; break's over, let's get back to work." Ino's groan resounded through the room.

"I cannot move another muscle." Sakura stood above her, watching her in mock contempt. "You are pathetic." She grabbed her hands, pulling her up. "Come on, we only have a few more things left."

Ino glared at Sakura's exiting back. "Of course, by 'a few' you mean two dozen boxes and a bed." An angry huff of air blew her bangs away from her face before she grudgingly followed.

* * *

Fall passed in bursts of busyness amid sprawling lengths of dormancy. For a span of time, there would be an influx of patients or a new technique to teach the medic nins or some type of managerial crisis to handle. And then, as suddenly as it appeared, the task would be gone and she would be thrust back into a state of listless boredom.

For the seventeenth time that hour, Sakura looked at the clock across the room and sighed. Her shift didn't start for another 15 minutes, the book currently splayed across her chest couldn't hold her attention, and visually tracing the patterns in the wood grain seemed like the most interesting thing at the moment. She flopped onto her stomach, pressing her face into the couch.

Idleness was the enemy. Idleness led to thinking which led to questioning which led to doubt which always led to Sasuke. She was convinced that, subconsciously, her mind was intentionally drawing all things back to him because the lingering pain somehow made her feel less—empty. It was wrong and unhealthy, she knew, but she couldn't stop the thoughts. It was like prodding at a bruise. And with enough prodding, she would begin asking herself the insidious questions that provided the raw material for her dream-nightmares. So she just wouldn't think altogether. Foolproof. She sighed. How much longer, she wondered, would he remain at the back of her mind like that, seeping into her thoughts at whim?

Her eyes flickered back to the clock and instantly brightened. "Finally!" the promise of busyness propelled her off the couch and into her gray tweed coat. As she tucked stray hairs under her black woven hat, she almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous she was; what kind of person eagerly marches toward a 10 hour shift?

The walk to the hospital was short—ten minutes at a normal pace, eight when the chilled wind cut through her coat and urged her forward. Just enough time to sketch a rough agenda for the day and think of miscellaneous activities to fill gaps, if there were any. After her usual rounds, maybe she'd get a head start on floor evaluations. But then she wouldn't have anything to do next week. Perhaps, personal reviews? Even those were periodic and were split into manageable groups. She could do one group of workers in only two hours or so. When did it become so hard to find work to do?

"Excuse me? Could I—"

She addressed the blurry male contour to her side without breaking stride. "I'm not looking to buy anything right now."

"Oh, I'm not a vendor. I just wanted to know if I could walk with you." She stopped walking.

He was too soft-spoken for a man of his stature, Sakura decided as she appraised the man who had interrupted her internal planning. Aged around 26, give or take a year. Toolbelt, working boots. Tall frame, angled jaw. Probably considered attractive. Light brown hair due for a cut that hung in his eyes. Eyes that seemed—excited. Which made her nervous.

Her wariness was caught immediately and the stranger moved to remedy the situation. "I'm Ryo. My team's been working on a building near the hospital for the past few weeks and I usually end up walking behind you." When she studied his outstretched hand for a wary moment before shaking it, he added warmly, "I'm not a creep." Oh, well when he put it like that, how could she not trust him? It was hard not to automatically roll her eyes. She'd been around Ino too much.

"Nice to meet you Ryo. I'm Sakura." She continued walking with this strange tall man occupying her thinking time. When he didn't speak after five beats of silence has passed, she figured she'd get the ball rolling.

"Well, if you're not going to sell me anything, how can I help you then Ryo?" she watched him scratch behind his ear as he smiled nervously.

"I wanted to know if you'd be interested in grabbing lunch some time." Lunch? Why would she—and then all at once, the confusion dissipated and Sakura realized, quite embarrassedly, that he was asking her on a date. Like normal people did.

Watching the various emotions rapidly flash across her face, Ryo quickly modified his request. "I understand if you don't want to. I figured I might be jumping the gun asking you this early but I really wanted to beat the crowd." He laughed quietly, continuing when he saw the question in her eyes. "I used to see you around sometimes with that guy you were with. I heard you were single now and I figured I'd try and get a date in before the lines started forming."

It was hard to discern one complete thought within the multitudes of half-formed questions streaming and crossing and colliding within her head. He _heard _she was single? From who? Was this widely discussed? Did everyone know? No, not everyone could possibly be talking about one incident from months ago. Right? Oh God. And what of the 'lines' and 'crowds'? Should she be flattered? Should she be concerned? What should she tell this guy? Did she want to go to lunch? Did she want to start dating? Did she want a relationship? What if he turns out like _him_? She shook her head in an attempt to reorient her mind. "Thanks for the offer Ryo but I'm not really looking for anything. I'm sorry."

He waved it off good-naturedly. "Don't worry about it. I get it. I've had a few bad breakups myself. There's no need to rush back in." Their footsteps dwindled into stillness in front of the hospital. What else was there to say? "Well, thanks for walking me here."

"No problem." he had a nice smile, she decided. Genuine. She smiled in return. "It was nice meeting you Ryo."

"Likewise." They shook hands again. "I hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries or anything but don't let yourself get hung up over bad blood, you know? There are plenty of guys in this village who'd love to take you out. Take care of yourself." He patted her shoulder.

She entered the hospital still in an odd state of confusion. She used the solitude of the elevator to reassess the conversation. Smiling softly, she considered his proposal. Dating would be interesting and new. However, she was nowhere near ready for it.

Ino however, thought differently. "Of course you're ready to start dating again. The water's warm, the fish are biting: time to jump back in the game." Ino stated, her matter-of-fact tone leaving no room for disagreement. "You're hesitant because you've been off the market for three years and you're afraid you don't remember how these things work—which is obviously true, seeing as how you describe a man as if you're filling out his physical examination." Hinata softly chuckled in agreement before Ino continued. "It'll come back with practice. Next thing you know, you'll be flirting and fake-laughing your way through dozens of dates like an old pro."

Having assembled the group at her apartment for TenTen's benefit, Sakura regretted saying anything about her early morning encounter now that Ino was set to twist the story into a psychoanalysis session. "I don't know. Going on dates is the last thing I want to do right now."

Ino laughed as she stood up from the ground, stretching before entering the kitchen. "You sound like a middle aged divorcee who hasn't dated anyone in 20 years."

"That's kind of what it feels like." Sakura mumbled.

Hinata smiled sympathetically. "Perhaps you need more time to yourself before you take on a new relationship."

"Who said anything about a relationship?" Ino called from the kitchen. "Being single is all about having a little fun and meeting people. Just some no-strings-attached socializing and a whirlwind of free meals. Harmless stuff."

"That sure sounds better than an emotion-oblivious, stubborn, jackass boyfriend." TenTen moaned bitterly into the carpet. Soothingly, Hinata stroked her hair.

"I know Neji can be difficult at times," TenTen snorted in protest, "but he really does care about you."

"On a scale from training to familial duty, where do I place?" she rolled onto her back, throwing an arm over her eyes. "Don't start dating again Sakura. Boys suck."

Returning with four bowls balancing on her arms, Ino stepped over TenTen's splayed limbs. "You know, there's really not enough room in here for you to be spread out like that." she shrugged off TenTen's growl as she placed a bowl of mint chip ice cream by her head. "Just saying. It's a bit dramatic. Why don't you sit up and eat your ice cream like big girl?"

"If you can mope and whine every time you gain three pounds, I think I'm allowed to lay on the ground when I break up with my boyfriend."

Ino scoffed out of the side of her mouth. "Just so you can get back together and break up again next week." Sakura sighed, settling into the couch cushions to watch the ensuing battle.

* * *

"I don't understand Tsunade-sama." Her fingers stopped shuffling papers and laced together above the jumbled white masses on her desk. "Like I said: I don't have any missions for you."

"Has no one requested a need for our services lately?" she sighed. This was becoming exhausting.

"No, I have plenty of missions. Just none for you." When there was no hint of realization and his silence became questioning, Tsunade sighed again. "You just returned from a three week long S-ranked mission yesterday. And while your eagerness is appreciated, it's not in your best interest, or mine, to send you out again so soon. I'd rather have you well rested and ready when I need you for an S-class mission rather than hospitalized for overexertion." Tsunade began amassing the sheets of paper into one individual 'do-later' pile. "So go home and _rest_. I'll probably have something for you in a few weeks."

A few weeks? As he spoke, Sasuke worked to keep the displeasure out of his voice. "What about short term missions?" Tsunade briefly looked up at him with impatience before answering with a measured tone. "Nothing at your level."

"That is not a concern."

"But it is to me. I don't need you wasting your time and energy on lower level missions when there are plenty of chunnin and genin who need to be paid too." The poorly masked irritation in her voice had become a well-developed annoyance at the point. It was no secret between the two that Tsunade harbored sour sentiments for Sasuke: it was nearly explicit at times. At least she did her best to keep their interactions as business-centered and professional as possible, mainly by never mentioning Sakura.

Pushing back from her desk with more force than necessary, Tsunade stood, placing her hands atop of the messy pile of paperwork as she appraised the young man before her. Sleeplessness shadowed his eyes; his skin seemed tighter around the neck. He was unhappy with her; she could see the way disapproval stiffened his frame. But he wouldn't continue to argue. He wasn't one for open defiance. It was Uchiha Sasuke after all.

"Go home. Get some sleep. Eat. Relax. Come back in a few days and I'll see what I can get for you."

A few days. The walk from the Hokage tower to his apartment was fraught with reluctance and, though he would've rather not admitted it, slight panic. A few days? Swiftly, the door was unlocked and the blank emptiness of his apartment rose before him like a citadel. He was surrounded. He felt stifled by it: the quiet that seeped along the floorboards and permeated the air. The apartment was purely practical; a space to sleep and store belongings. There was no need for aesthetics and decoration when he didn't plan to spend much time there. But now he had no choice. He would be trapped here.

He ate. Bathed. Cleaned. The only thing left to do was to finish his mission report. He stared with hesitance at the sheet before him, knowing that, after its completion, there would be nothing to stave off the deep chill of loneliness. He would only be able to sit in silence as the internal turmoil sunk into his heart and mind—clenching, gnawing, tearing. A draft seeped through the window frame and the chill sighed and settled into his bones. Looking at the glass as it shuddered in protest to the surge of wind, he sighed. To be freed of these emotions.

Only a quarter of the report was completed before the light above the small wooden table faltered once, twice, and then went out. The whir of the heater sputtered into silence. He knew there was an extra blanket in the closet and a flashlight beneath the sink; he could manage a powerless night. But at that moment, he could only think about how thick the darkness was, even with the faint, gray light from the windows. Moving quickly, he grabbed a sweater and his report and left the suffocating apartment.

Naruto still hated him, he knew, but his options for shelter were limited—limited to one. He would rather sit in silence being glared at than be subject to the influence of his dark apartment. That was, if Naruto even let him in at all. A grimace pulled at his face—partially from the cut of the wind, partially from annoyance at the prospect of being put out. Ten minutes passed and he was there, at the foot of the complex staring up at Naruto's apartment window. The lights of the television glowed incandescently against the glass. A chilled drop of rain fell onto his head, somehow deepening his frown.

"Sasuke?" from the way the voice jolted his chest, he knew who it belonged to before he looked towards the speaker. She stood a few careful feet away, her arms barely holding her thick blanket, pillow, and overnight bag. There was something about her stare, peeking over the jumble of belongings she held, that bothered him—familiar, yet different.

"Sakura." Saying her name aloud, after months of avoidance, felt like a sigh in his mouth but a wrench in his stomach. _Sakura, Sakura, Sakura._

Her hair was shorter, skirting the nape of her neck and curling behind her ears. The heavy chill in the air rouged her cheeks, and her nose. He'd forgotten how beautiful she was.

When he didn't say more, she smiled politely in the silence, and then broke her gaze. What was she thinking about as she chewed at her lip, fidgeting? Making an excuse to leave? Thinking of what to say? Her eyes flickered to his face and away and then back again. And then he realized he was staring. He turned his focus back to the apartment and from the corner of eye, he watched her posture relax.

"Are you visiting Naruto?"

He shrugged. "My power went out." she nodded and gestured to the things spilling out of her arms. "Mine too. As soon as the girls left, everything shut off."

Hands in pockets, he stared at the ground to avoid staring at her. She picked at the edge of the blanket. They didn't speak.

Several rain drops dampened the ground and Sakura looked upwards at the swirling clouds. "Do you want to head up?" In response, he walked forward and held open the door as she maneuvered through the doorway with her load. They travelled up the stairs in silence, Sakura only muttering a 'thank you' when Sasuke relieved her of her belongings halfway up. He watched her now empty hands fiddle with the hem of her coat, wondering about the contents of her mind. As they reached the top of the stairs, he could see the way relief coursed through her.

It took two minutes of banging and screaming for Naruto to finally hear the noise over the blare of the TV and his snores. He opened the door, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he spoke. "Ne, Sakura keep your voice down before you disturb my neighbors." She promptly knocked the top of his head. "I wouldn't have to scream if you could hear like a normal person. How many times do I have to tell you not to turn your volume up so high? And why are you sleeping anyway? It's only 8 o'clock."

"I'm exhausted! Training with Lee is killing me." It was only after rubbing tenderly at his sore head that Naruto opened his eyes and caught sight of Sasuke standing behind Sakura. His pout faded into blankness, his eyes narrowed. Sakura laid a calming hand on his chest. "Sasuke's power went out."

"And so what?"

"And so, he doesn't have heat. And with the storm—"

"Did you expect to stay here you selfish piece of—" Sasuke matched Naruto's glare.

"Naruto." Sakura muttered quietly. "Just, be nice. Please." His grimace deepened. "For me?" After a few more moments of glaring, Naruto turned and reentered his apartment. Sakura sighed before following, Sasuke close behind.

He could feel Naruto's eyes on his back as he placed Sakura's things on the couch. Without a word, he turned the corner towards the dining room, situating himself at the small table. Through the door, he listened to her try and soothe Naruto with promises of homemade ramen. After a few moments of coaxing, he relented and they laughed together about some joke. How long had it been since he had heard her laugh? Sasuke did his best to swallow the nostalgia as he returned to his report. If he could focus, he wouldn't be moved by something as trivial as laughter.

_At this point in the mission, a potential compromise to my task revealed itself. The town leader caught wind of a possible breach in security and relocated the target. Four guardsmen were located at each entrance and a request for shinobi from Kumo was submitted. I—_

"If _A Kiss Before Sunrise_ isn't on the screen when I come back, you'll be sorry." The door swung open and her scent was smothering him. _Focus, focus_. He pretended not to notice when she passed by the table to grab something from the fridge, when she glanced at him hesitantly, when she walked towards him slowly, when she sat beside him, toying absently with the lid of her bottle. He placed his concentration on each stroke of his pen.

"Mission report?" he nodded once. Pause. "A-ranked?"

"S-ranked." he corrected as she nodded in response. The stream of laughter from the TV cut through the silence. He could feel her eyes studying him.

The pen paused.

"What do you want?"

Through the corner of his eye, he saw her frown slightly. "I just want to know if you're alright."

Alright? She knew what it had been like for him before he found her. She _knew_. Alright? All of a sudden he was angry, angry like he had been in those weeks after she had said goodbye. Angry enough to feel the heat pounding through him. He spat his words. "Does it matter whether I'm _alright_ or not?"

"Of course it does." Defensiveness hovered behind her words, creased her brow.

"Really. All that seems to matter is how happy you are."

"That's not true." Her voice was quiet. It drew his eyes to her face. Her face hung wearily. The misery that used to glaze her eyes hovered threateningly at the corners of her sight before she gradually sealed it away. For that brief moment, he could see the traces of the spiritless Sakura he had found sitting at the table months ago. Then with a few controlled breaths, she was gone. "You can't tell me you'd be happier living how we were."

Of course he'd be happier; she'd be there. Pushing back the regret collecting in his chest, he turned his sight towards the window, watching the sleet and rain sliding down the glass.

"Listen, I remember how it was when you first came back, how much solitude had changed you." her fingers pressed lightly against his hand. "I don't want to see that happen to you again."

Swirls of wind broke against the window. Had her touch always felt so painful? "Why do you care?" Even he could hear the tired ache in his voice.

Shrugging slightly, she sighed. "Force of habit I guess." What was he to make of her words? Of the sad smile she offered? "I don't see why we can't be civil towards each other."

Her eyes were kind, waiting for him to say something—anything. He could tell her. Tell her about the dreams and the emptiness. Tell her that each mission report he turned in was accompanied by a request for a new one. He couldn't sit in the apartment and listen to himself breathing. He could tell her that his heart ached. He could tell her and she would listen and his body wouldn't feel so laden with these emotions. But he didn't need her pity, didn't want her sympathy. Not when her mind was set. In the end, she'd return to her home and he his and he'd still be alone. Talking wouldn't change a thing. So then what was there to say? He turned away and resumed writing. Her eyes followed the stroke of his pen for a moment, and then she stood and returned to the living room. The door swung shut and reflexively, he gazed at the space where her fingers had grazed his skin.

The report was finished in an hour. Thirty minutes to write, thirty minutes to proofread. He studied the window, the night sky obscured by his reflection. Naruto and Sakura's muffled chatter diffused through the walls. She sounded happy—no, she _was_ happy. It was there in the way she sat, in the light of her eyes. She was happier without him. She was healthier without him. She was better without him. Eventually, she would rid herself of this phantom limb of a relationship and heal completely. She'd regain everything she had lost. She'd be incredible.

And he would be alone.

He needed her, more than he wanted to admit, more than he could understand. Through the square plastic window in the door, he studied her, watched the light of the television bathe her face in flashing colors. An actor made a joke and her face melted into a smile. He knew she was right: without him, she could find happiness again.

Within the next hour, Naruto had fallen asleep on the floor, slumped against the couch by Sakura's feet, swathed in half of her blanket. She almost didn't notice Sasuke come in, silently emerging from the darkness. The couch was small but he left as much space as possible between them when he sat. Both their eyes absently watched the images on the screen, internally focusing on the person at their side.

On that drafty December night, the warmth of her body reached across the five inch dead zone between them and coaxed his tongue to say the words that had tossed about his mind for months. "I'm sorry Sakura. For everything." He watched the surprise brim her eyes and eventually slide down her cheek.

"Thank you."

* * *

Okay. So this chapter was basically finished months ago but, because I'm an idiot, I left it on my flash drive which was then subsequently lost/stolen. So I had to rewrite it which actually turned out to be a good thing since this version came out much better than the last. Also, this chapter was more of a transitioning type chapter which made it harder to write. Mostly because I have the story set in my head, but I can't just flash forward to the scenes I already have set because then the story wouldn't make sense.

Anyway, enough of my rambling. Let me know how you like this chapter. I might keep editing it because I don't know how much I like it quite yet.


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